


meetings

by bisexualhotchner



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Haley Lives AU, M/M, Past Aaron Hotchner/Haley Hotchner - Freeform, Slice of Life, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-09-25 19:23:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20376835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualhotchner/pseuds/bisexualhotchner
Summary: When they first met, Aaron was married, closeted and would never even think about being romantically involved with anyone other than Haley.When they first met, Spencer was single, openly bisexual and felt the exact opposite of what the man was thinking.meet-cute with hotchreid but it's a half-hearted job interview and then some other escalations in their relationship





	1. where it all began

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteSpiritOfDarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteSpiritOfDarkness/gifts), [pannn_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pannn_chan/gifts), [SapphicScribble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphicScribble/gifts), [Interiorwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interiorwinter/gifts), [ElectricIndigoAndAllThatIsDead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricIndigoAndAllThatIsDead/gifts).

> I only gifted this one to all the people who left the comments on my first fanfiction but if I could I would tag everyone who took the time to read it! It truly means a ton to me that you guys like my work :)

Nicola Yoon Jamaican-American writer wrote: "There's a Japanese phrase that I like: _koi no yokan_. It doesn't mean love at first sight. It's closer to love at second sight. It's the feeling when you meet someone that you're going to fall in love with them. Maybe you don't love them right away, but it's inevitable that you will."

'How was traffic?' Haley asked cheerfully over the phone, although her voice still sounded a bit groggy from sleep. Hotch usually called her in his lunch break right after Derek got back from his: knowing that his colleague won't have time to bond over some fast food with this regularly scheduled call home, they just agreed to hold the fort by going in separate times.

This one was another of those lunch break calls, where Hotch just stared at his pastry shop sandwiches, taking away from his eating time to talk to her without having to force down a mouthful around words. It's been way past noon, but he didn't judge Haley on oversleeping. It's become more and more regular for her to sleep in as she began to wake up to his alarm, too. She's told him she couldn't fall back asleep for a while after that.

'It really wasn't all that bad. I got there before rush hour.' he said, breaking out in a smile over her approving hum and the unmistakable voice of her sipping her morning coffee. 'Hey there, sleepy head.'

'Can't lie to a leading profiler, can I?' Haley chuckled, tipping her head back on the couch in an effort to get her fringe out of her face.

'No, hon. This isn't about that.'

'Then what is it about?'

'It's that you can't lie to your husband.' Hotch said fondly. 'I could probably guess what you're wearing with over ninety percent accuracy.'

'Are you getting cocky now, Agent Hotchner?' she laughed.

'Your light purple night gown with one of my cotton T-shirts under it that's been too small for me for a long time but you still keep it around in case I would "lose weight and it'd fit once again". The truth is that you like wearing my clothes when you're missing me, but the shirts that are actually my size are too big for you to move around in comfortably.'

Haley slipped into a silence that felt both stunned and impressed. 'I just got busted by the FBI. How did you know all this?'

'I just told you, you can't lie to your husband.' Aaron leaned back on the pastry shop's wooden chair with a smile. 'And I tried those shirts the other night and they all smelled of your body wash.'

'I think I've had enough of you for one day, Mister.' she spit with mock annoyance, to which Hotch burst out in a little laugh. 'I'm putting you down, you cheap magician. Coming home early tonight?'

'Not exactly. Gideon asked me to meet his protégé tonight in the office. He wants my opinion on the kid.'

Haley let out a soft sigh. 'Can't he decide that for himself?'

'I bet he can. He's never made mistakes in deciding who's fit and who isn't.' he mused, fiddling with the napkin under his untouched ham & cheese sandwich. 'Maybe he's testing me somehow.'

'I would appreciate him "testing" you less, given that he's been giving you bonus work like this over the past two months.'

'Sweetheart, it won't take long. Half to one hour and I'll be on my way.'

'Yeah, sure.' The sudden change in her tone made Hotch's heart ache, and he bit the skin on his lips to distract himself. 'Just- promise you'll keep me updated, alright? And make sure you tell me all about this new kid when you get home.'

'I will. Try to stay awake until then.' he joked, but apparently, Haley found it less funny than all of their bantering before. The line went silent, and he got up from his seat to carry his tray back to the counter.

'Excuse me, can I get a to go-bag for this?'

'Oh, you gotta be kidding me.' Morgan sneered, looking up from his paperwork across his desk. It was late in the afternoon, and they were slowly but surely finishing up a report on a Chicago serial arson case. Hotch had just finished eating his second sandwich that he had left from his lunch break, but he allowed himself to be distracted by frowning at him and then following his eyes through the glass doors of the bureau.

'Is this the new kid?' he went on, loud and blunt. 'Jesus, somebody get him some ankle weights before the wind could throw him outta Virginia.'

'Don't be an ass, Derek.' Hotch warned him, although he could see what he was talking about.

Clearly, everyone could see that. The man who was talking to Gideon outside on the corridor was more of a boy than a man, actually. He genuinely looked like a malnourished teenager who reached his growth spur around age 13 and haven't grown an inch since. His figure was awfully slim and fragile, with edges all around - he looked like as if someone were to hug him, one or two edges of his bony body could cause some punctures even with the greatest care. His hair was slicked with what seemed like grease and his eyes looked perpetually tired behind the prescription glasses.

'You heard how they hired this Reid guy, Hotch?' Morgan leaned on his desk to keep his voice in check, not wanting to sound like the workplace gossip girl. 'He failed all physique-related qualifications. Can't shoot a gun, can't run a mile with or without kevlar and the arms. And we're supposed to work with him on the field right away? Is this real?'

'Funny, I didn't take you for someone who believes everything they hear.' The man answered sternly. Of course he heard of this. It was all in Reid's file. 'Besides, Gideon must have his reasons for approving his application. I trust his judgment.'

'Trust him all you want, man. But you got a wife at home who's looking to get you back in one piece after every mission we get to. Would you really have this twig make sure she doesn't get just half a Hotchner?'

'I make sure of that myself.' He nodded, stubbornly getting back to work as a subtle message for Morgan to get back to his, too. From the corner of his eyes, he caught just the slightest movement of Derek shaking his head at the new kid before turning back to the file laid open in front of him too.

It wasn't until that did Hotch allow himself another glimpse of the boy through the glass. He seemed horribly young. If he didn't know better, he would say 'fresh out of high school'-young. But Reid was definitely an adult who knew what he wanted, standing there with enough nervous energy to power the entire city of Quantico for the remaining hours of the day, yet at the same time looking just as determined as he did when he first set foot on the FBI Academy's floor.

If anything, Dr. Spencer Reid seemed even more vulnerable up close and personal.

Right as Hotch entered the room, he jumped up from his seat, fingers nervously fumbling with each other. His entire figure seemed skinny almost to the extent of seeming pointy with a lot of edges. Derek wasn't joking when he likened him to a stick - the young man looked more like a marionette than a real person. His airy movements didn't quite help the wandering of Aaron's tired mind into that direction.

'Hi, good evening. I'm Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner.' he said, extending his hand to greet him. Reid looked at it not much like he had offended him but more wandering with a hint of discomfort. 'Are you alright, Dr. Reid?'

'Well, yes, I am. It's just not...really my thing.' Spencer replied, gesturing wildly to make up for all the frustrated energies he had been containing. 'I'm really sorry.'

‘No, I am sorry. Gideon didn’t tell me that you have… issues.’

'I don’t have “issues”, Agent Hotchner.’ Reid pulled his lips into a tight smile. 'I have touch aversion and mild germaphobia, both of which might or might not be directly linked to my Asperger’s syndrome or more modernly known as Autism Spectrum Disorder in the field. I consider these facts differences, not problems.’

'Just like how some people are tall and others are short.’ Hotch nodded along respectfully.

'Well, the matter of height is entirely based on genetics,’ he went on, sitting only when Hotch slowly eased into his own chair, having him mirror the gesture. 'whereas the development of ASD is only more loosely tied to one’s genetic compound.’

'But it wouldn’t make work more difficult to you, would it?’

'No, sir.’ Spencer’s eyes were sure, but his lips hesitated around another remark. 'It didn’t make graduating at age 12 difficult, and it didn’t make getting three PhD’s and two BA diplomas difficult so far, either.’

'I’m well aware of your qualifications, Dr. Reid.’ He stated. 'I’ve read your CV. I just haven’t been informed of your condition.’

'With all due respect, may I ask if my condition bothers you?’ Reid asked with every frustration of a man whose skills have been previously questioned, who have felt degraded and marginalized over the so called condition they were just talking about.

Hotch studied him carefully for a moment.

'No.’ he said. 'Forgive me. I just had to know if you had any insecurities regarding this aspect of yourself.’

Reid quickly laid back into the chair from his previously leaned forward, conflict-seeking position to relax into a more comfortable one. This new way of sitting carried the conscious message of being open and composed. 'It’s not nice to profile a potential new colleague.’

'No, it isn’t.’ Hotch agreed with an apologetic smile. 'You’ll get used to it. We profile each other on a daily basis.’

'It sounds stressful.’

'If you didn’t sign up for stressful, I have some very bad news for you.’

'I have to agree with you.’ The thin line Spencer pushed his lips into broke as he managed a small smile, finally looking like he wasn’t just feigning calmness. 'Profiling seems like hard work.’

'So why do you want to do it?’

'I can handle hard. I have the knowledge and the skills to contribute to this job, and I feel like… You know, how people should always strive to make the world a little better place.’

'Right.’

'And it’s up to you, I mean, us, whether someone will be prosecuted for the crimes they committed, obviously. At the end of the day, the FBI are the heroes and serial killers are the villains.’

'What are you saying?’

'I’m saying that Charles Manson lived through hell in his youth while being in state custody. Andrei Chikatilo most likely witnessed his mother getting violated by a gang of military soldiers. Ed Kemper, Jeffrey Dahmer, Aileen Wuornos were all abused as children in one way or another. I like to think, that… if we manage to catch them, they might finally find their peace, too. Otherwise they would never get the help that they need.’

'That's good sentiment, Spencer.' Hotch agreed with a nod. 'But we first save lives and serve justice, and then think about all the poor bastards we're helping to therapy along the way.'

'Handbook to Hostage Negotiation, chapter II., page 51, paragraph four. "The most important about the discussion is to make the dialogue about the perpetrator. On many occasions, the unsubs only need someone to listen to their problems as their motive lies behind suppressed feelings, emotions and frustrations. In a stressful situation, this anger can come out in varied ways, and the aim is to channel it into resolving their inner turmoil instead of letting it burst onto potential victims."'

'I see that you've read the book.'

'I've memorized the textbook you wrote and refuse to take credit for.' Reid looked straight into his eyes this time. 'I mean, not as much memorized as just read it and stored it like a hard-drive. I have an eidetic memory.'

'That might come in handy.' Hotch answered the gesture with a relaxed smile, rising to his feet while instinctively holding onto the necktie flapping against his stomach. 'Alright, Dr. Reid. I'll give you a tour through the rest of the bureau, and you can come in tomorrow to meet the team.'

'I'm looking forward to it.' he said with just a hint of sarcasm while allowing the man to open the door for him. 'I have a feeling Special Agent Morgan somewhat dislikes me.'

'Special Agent Morgan somewhat disliked all of us when we first met. It takes time with him, but I'm sure there will be no problems.'


	2. what it escalated to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's wrong with Hotch. This time, it's serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little hot and heavy! But mostly heavy.  
Quite a few years have passed since the first chapter, although I didn't specify it. I hope you'll enjoy, and remember, feedback is always welcome!

“some moments are nice, some are  
nicer, some are even worth  
writing  
about.” - Charles Bukowski

The dull, peach curtains let on a little of the blinding, winter morning light, illuminating the entire room in its rich color. The master bedroom, just like all other rooms of the house that Hotch had offered Haley in the divorce yet was turned down, was comfortably big and unsettingly empty before. With Spencer halfway moved in however, and his personal stuff - clothes, hygiene tools and books alike - laying on every surface in places where it counts semi-organized, it seemed like the place was occupied once again. Filled with life.

It must have been around 9 AM, Aaron guessed from the first peak of blinding sunlight coming from their east-facing window in through his closed eyelids, when he woke up to a cold tip of a nose nudging at the backside of his upper arm. He smiled through Spencer's sleepy attempts at affection, softly humming when the poking evolved into gentle, lingering kisses against his muscles, Spencer's breath slowly warming his air-chilled skin.

'Do you think Jack's awake yet?' Spencer carefully sneaked an arm around his middle while ducking his head to press his lips against the peaked little moles around his shoulder blades. His hair prickled down Aaron's side, earning a shiver from him.

'Not with that sugar dose you gave him last night.' Aaron mumbled into the pillow. His midwestern accent came out heavy and syrupy-thick in the morning when he was still groggy from sleep. Spencer loved the sound of it on his low, deep rumble of a voice, if the hitch in his breath was any implication.

'The cocoa you're buying him is not as sweet. You really think a kid will enjoy a bitter hot chocolate?' he argued, debating even while kissing up the shoulder of the man he so adores.

'It is sweet, you just got messed-up tastebuds from all the sugar you put in your coffee.'

Spencer raised himself up by his arms so he could look right into his sleepy face. 'I'm letting you know _again,_ that caffeine isn't the one that helps people stay awake, but rather it speeds up the process of breaking down sugars, which-'

Aaron cut him off by hooking his fingers into his hair and yanking him down, kissing his wet, smooth, gorgeous and still sleep-tasting mouth, hard. One quiet moan escaped from Spencer's lips, half aroused and half pained from crashing down on him so suddenly, and he caught it eagerly in another kiss. Then Spencer, accepting defeat, let out a warm huff of air through his nose that tingled both of their faces, finding leverage once again while holding onto the man's forearms. Hotch kissed him lazily, cupping his face with steady hands, enjoying the hell out of feeling the other's jaw slowly working against his palm.

'We have some time.' he finally whispered, and Spencer took the opportunity to nip and kiss down the side of his neck. Aaron tipped his head back to give him some room, and for similar reasons, opened his thighs to let him in. His eyelids fluttered shut as Spencer sucked on the skin above his collarbone, and grabbed his meaty thighs to push them further apart, making himself enough room to thrust his hips up against Aaron's own. The man seriously had to force himself to think further than Spencer's hot and heavy member stroking up the jut of his groin. 'Haley... is expecting him around noon, so I'll go and, wake him up by ten. We gotta take off a little before eleven-, God, Spencer.' he moaned, thrusting his hips helplessly against Spencer's dry thumb on his entrance. The motion had no true intent to it, but the friction enough, along with the promise it carried, had driven Hotch crazy with want.

'Will this fit in your schedule?' Spencer asked sheepishly, although Aaron was absolutely, 100% positive he knew damn well what he was doing. He watched his expression as he leveraged himself a little off the bed to thrust fully into his hand, watched as his jaw went slack and his pupils dilated, and it brought him better satisfaction that the motion itself.

'Get the lube and we'll see.' he told him, almost as harsh as an order. Meanwhile, as Spencer crawled off him to search the drawer for the item, he managed to scramble his previous thoughts together to finish an earlier discussion. 'You want to come with us to drop Jack off at Haley's?

'Sure, I'd never miss a chance to get on your ex-wife's nerves with my sheer existence and status as your boyfriend.' Spencer smiled, and Hotch tried to decipher if he was joking. He seemed genuine, and frankly, he could be a little shit sometimes. He usually liked annoying others, but he would deny it until there's no exact proof of that. 'Condom?'  
  
  
Hotch raised an amused brow at his ability to divert the topic. 'Yes, please.'

It was almost like breathing.

Aaron got so used to it that he wouldn't even notice on a normal day unless somebody pointed it out, and even that somebody had to be really special for him to actually listen to them.

It wasn't like he'd forgotten, or chosen to forget about it. It just became such a fundamental part of himself that he wouldn't care to keep it in mind, that he thought he was worthless.

Spencer tried every single day to make him believe the opposite. He's told him time and time again how great he is, how good he is to him, to Jack and to the team, he pulled his head against his chest, propped his chin up on his skull and softly raked his fingers through the short hairs on the nape of his neck in an effort to make him feel loved and appreciated. He made sure to kiss him unexpectedly on his shoulder, face, hand, quite frankly anywhere he could reach, so that he knows he's not alone. Ever since he became mostly immune to Hotch's touches regarding his autism-related irritation, he maintained physical contact as much as their job allowed them to.

Still, Aaron Hotchner had never gotten his doubts to leave him. They'd grown on him like lesions on his soul, plague in his mind, ugly and rotting and only his sheer willpower to keep the decay in check. He was made of flesh and bone, but he was also made of self-doubt and his obsessive crave to compensate for it with his hero-complex and overworking himself in his private life as much as at the workplace.

Spencer knew of all this. Hell, he had been supervising Aaron's mental health more so than his therapist did. He knew him better not because he would open up to him more, but because he learned how to read him like an open book.

Aaron spoke volumes with the level of isolation he was applying to his relationships. Things were quite fine when he took the time to talk to Rossi, and things got pretty bad when he avoided talking to the man. He did more than okay when he went out of his way to check on Garcia after a particularly rough case and less when he didn't even reply to her attempts at flirting over the phone. Derek was a different case: they either bickered playfully or they fought seriously with opinions clashing and harsh words exchanged.

Spencer had another scale for measuring how bad his lover's insecurities were eating him up, and it was how much he dared to show his emotions. On a good day, Aaron smiled at the science jokes he was cracking and seemed to react accordingly to a case. On bad days, he seemed entirely unfazed by the horrors they'd encountered and avoided him as much as he could.

This is why he thought they would be fine when Hotch was stressed about the Replicator. After all, they'd lost Strauss, who most of them wasn't particularly fond of, but the woman always had their backs when needed. He was there with her through the very end, hold her while Rossi called for an ambulance, he squeezed her tight and felt as her body slowly went limp against him. He never said, but Spencer could guess that all that time he was thinking about how much Strauss had done for them, how much she cared in her own ways. Mentally, he was in her office for late night hours, discussing budget or team efficiency, cases and technicalities.

It had all been fine. The isolation came. Then recklessness came. Hotch had negotiated with an unsub without the kevlar to protect him, taking off the gun from his side and the backup from his ankle holster, too. It wasn't the first time, and knowing him, it wouldn't be the last.

Spencer wasn't even surprised that Hotch isolated himself from him. He slept over less, they didn't make plans, even if they both had some free time. They only ever met when Aaron showed up unannounced at his door, carrying flowers and an apologetic expression with him, as well as some lube and condom in his pockets, which they put to good use during the night.

It was the case that night, too. He came home earlier than he used to when he took the time to wait for his boyfriend to finish the reports, with the excuse of having to work on his philosophy dissertation. To be honest, he really had to work on that, but he also absolutely had to get his mind off of things, so he took to rewatching the first few seasons of Doctor Who.

He was expecting the familiarly rhythmic knock on the door, yet he was still startled when it came and interrupted the episode. Instead of searching for a pause, he muted the DVD and jumped to his feet to open the door for a very tired lover slash superior.

Yeah, there were only few things Hotch could surprise him with. The faint sobbing and the spreading of warm wetness against his chest was one of them.

He was still in him, both of them having just finished. If Spencer had the right mind to guess, he would've said that the hormones that had worked in him probably let his frustrations loose, messing up signals and feelings and emotions. Yet Aaron held him tight, his blunt fingernails cutting into the flesh of his back mercilessly, shoulders shaking with the effort to keep himself contained.

'Aaron?' Spencer called out, soft yet panicked. He hugged his shoulders tight, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his sweat-slick hair and feeling his throat tighten when the man jumped from the gesture. Aaron took a shuddering breath, trying to calm himself. 'Talk to me. Please.'

He sniffed in reply, and let Spencer go with one hand to wipe at his face while he tried to sit up. Spencer moved with him, clutching into his shoulders, not wanting to let him get away. 'Have I told you that I love you, Spencer?'

'Sixteen times in total since we started dating. But if you ask me, there must've been two hundred and seventy-six occasions when you looked, acted or sounded like you were trying to communicate it.' he said, relieved to find a small smile on Hotch's lips at his words. He wanted to kiss him so badly, but he couldn't, not in the state the man was in at the time. First, they had to discuss things.

'Good. Because I love you.' Aaron whispered, taking his face between his hands. 'You make me feel so strong yet so vulnerable. You take care of me, of my son, the team. Spencer Reid, you really are one of a kind and I'm so lucky to have ever had you.'

'I'm not going anywhere.' he mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss against the other's left palm. 'I'm right here with you.'

Aaron let out a sad smile, stroking Spencer's skin with his thumb. 'I love you so much. Never forget this, Spence.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I promised this chapter will be up soon. Chapter 3 is in the works now, I'm really hoping you guys will enjoy what I have in mind!


	3. how it ended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quite some time have passed. Does love fade, does it stay the same or does it change into something else?

"Next time we commit  
love, we ought to  
choose in advance what to kill." - Margaret Atwood

It had been over a year since Reid was appointed Section Chief.

It's not like they had any other choice, he used to joke when confronted with the very real congratulations about the extremely surreal situation.

And he didn't feel like he wouldn't be right. With Rossi, Emily and Derek retired, JJ out on maternal leave again, him and Garcia were the only two people to stay at the BAU as senior members of the team. Garcia had refused to take the profiler extension course even after JJ had done hers, because she felt way more protected from the dangers of their work behind the computer screen, Thank You Very Much.

No one would have her any other way anyway. Besides, Alvez often mused, she wouldn't let any unsubs have a chance at them once she goes mama bear. Penelope argued, further proving her own underlying fierceness, that he should 'watch his mouth'.

So that was it. Somehow Reid, with his semi-suspension a few years back, with his past drug addiction and ongoing complications around his mental health, was found suitable for the job anyway by the FBI chief inspectors. He was offered Emily's late office, but he took one look at the corner door, caught a glimpse of the mahogany office set-up and the red of the U.S. flag on the walls and said no. He got Derek's office instead just down the corridor.

After all, it has been five years, ten months and eleven days since he last seen him. The only person who was ever truly fit for the job, better than his predecessors and everyone who's come after him. Even after all these years, it was difficult to think about him, not because of what they've been through together, but for the bond that they shared.

Spencer tried not to think about him, but everytime something brought up memories of him in his mind, be it his office, someone on the street with an untailored suit that they wore impeccably smart anyway, or just child laughter that sounded eerily like Jack, he was flooded with the entire scale of human emotions. He felt fondness and rage, disappointment and fear, anxiety and disgust. He felt both comforted and cornered by the ghost of him, and there was no one left he could turn to.

Surely, Garcia noticed sometimes. She knew why he was so adamant on refusing the office of former Section Chiefs, of course, but she never spoke to him about it. Even she was aware when to be loud and when is quiet understanding the best she could do for someone, especially with Reid, for whom comfort was something that rarely worked.

'Are you going to hold one of those gender reveal parties? I hear they're popular nowadays.' he asked JJ, during one of their late afternoon walks in the Potomac Park. He still waved his latte around as he spoke, a habit he wouldn't shake but instead proudly accepted as part of his persona. He prided himself on being the first Section Chief with diagnosed Aspergers.

'Do I look like someone who would hold gender reveal parties?' JJ raised an elegant brow at him, breaking out in a low chuckle. She was nursing a decaf caramel macchiato herself, the name 'Jennifer' hastily scribbled on the side of her Starbucks cup. She was unconsciously looking for an unoccupied bench in their way in case she grew tired as she so often would in her condition. Night fell late at this time of the year: it was mid-June, unusually warm for the Washington weather, the soil dry, the air humid. Forecast was going on about incoming seasons of rain.

'Jennifer, you look _exactly_ like someone who would hold a gender reveal party.' Spencer grinned, welcoming the disgruntled elbow coming at his side with such familiarity that only siblings would operate at. He didn't even flinch at the intrusion, only laughed and turned to the direction of the closest bench JJ was eyeing for them.

'It's a girl this time.' she said, voice a happy sigh. She flicked her lashes down shyly, her smile growing as she noticed Spencer stopping in his tracks. His mouth went lax with shock, his eyes widened staring at her, but slowly, his big, toothy grin came back as nice and lovely as she remembered it to be. Before jail... before he would mature up, became so bitter.

'The boys will love her.' Spencer assured her, getting a little choked up by feelings. 'JJ, you're having a baby girl.'

'I'm having a baby girl.' she repeated equally touched, looking up finally as Spencer put a hand on her shoulder. 'Henry is already stoked. He wants to name her Emily.'

'Oh, after his Auntie?' Reid smiled, gently sneaking his arm around JJ's shoulders and leading her all the way to the bench. 'That's so nice of him.'

'Yes, but I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Imagine how her ego would blow up.' JJ laughed, full-mouthed and loud. Spencer couldn't help but follow, and agree.

'Do you have any ideas of your own?'

'I'm not so sure.' she mused, her thumbnail mindlessly flicking at the lid of her drink. 'I'll have to talk to Will first, but if I want to be honest, I've been thinking a lot about the names Diana, Diane.'

Spencer eyed her profile for a second. 'After my mom?' he finally asked, lowering his gaze down on the paved road. JJ bit her lips and nodded.

'I think a lot about her, Spence. She was so wonderful.'

'She was, until her heart gave out.' he sighed. 'You're only thinking of her because of your hormones, though. It's making you emotional, irrational-'

'She helped us so much. We mourned with you, not for you at the funeral.' JJ reminded her in her strict voice that got more stern since she had kids. The virtues of mothers, Spencer thought absentmindedly.

He lifted his head up to look JJ into her eyes. His lips pursed in a stressed way, but he nodded and ended up flashing a small smile. 'Whatever you end up calling her, am I still expected to be her godfather?'

JJ's expression softened, and she clutched at her paper cup more tightly. 'Of course, honey. You always are.'

Although the promotion did come with a raise, Spencer had no intentions of living a life any more luxurious than he had been up to that point.

He owned a car now, though. It was a black SUV, some overpriced American production because FBI higher-ups have said that Section Chiefs shouldn't take the subway every day to work. So they gave him a car of their own, yet Spencer continued to take the subway every day to work, because even when they tried to instruct him, they wouldn't monitor if he's been following the instructions later on. To make matters worse, he only drove it twice so far - once when he got the call from the hospital his mother was admitted to while her stay in Virginia, and once to the funeral.

He didn't want to move, either. He felt content in his small apartment full of books and all of his memories, but a few weeks ago, a nasty case with a tech-genius unsub revealed his address to the dark side of cyber world and he had to be forced out of the place. It's nothing Garcia could've done, since the personal information was pirated from a computer that was in another department, and he made sure to tell her so everytime she felt like blaming herself for the whole ordeal. Though, Reid suspected that it was only half of her feeling responsible for her friend's wellbeing and her constant fear of giving out data to unsubs since the Fisher King-case decades back, and half being enraged about being beaten in her own field.

Having been through all this and even more, it was no surprise at all that Spencer noticed that someone had been following him ever since the park. The first thing he did when he headed down to the subway station after walking Jennifer to her car was to send her a coded message that he's going to be okay, but she should make sure that she isn't being followed too.

He went straight to his apartment block. He found no sense in confronting the man - or woman, they could be either or none - in an open space, since then he would give them a chance to get away easier. No, if he was being stalked, he wanted to end it for good, either by fighting with a dubious outcome or by an arrest.

He never looked back. Not while he took the turn to his ground floor corridor, not while he crouched down to seemingly retie his shoes. With his heart beating up in his throat, he cuffed up his jeans as he tried to listen to the approaching footsteps from a safe distance through his rapid pulse.

Spencer waited for the opportunity. Then leaped to the side, shoulder knocking into the concrete wall, the backup from his ankle holster pointed steadily at the man - most definitely by this time - behind him.

'FBI! Stay where you are!'

'I'm unarmed.' A cool voice answered, arms raised with learned preciseness. Spencer squinted at the face under the baseball cap and the hoodie, tried to decipher the non-trendy yet expensive-looking sunglasses.

It was the messily grown dark beard interlaced with grey hairs that gave him away in the end, though. That, and the extremely familiar mole on the right side by his nose.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, the recognition not doing so much in soothing his raked nerves and the adrenaline rushing through his veins. But he did sit up and lowered his gun right before a neighbor moved to come out of their flat to ask what the hell is their problem.

'Do you not have a better plan at getting in touch with an FBI agent than stalking them?'

'I wouldn't call it stalking.' Aaron smiled, moving to walk to him and help him get up with an extended hand. Spencer watched him and for a hot second, contemplated being petty and denying him the honor. 'Old habits die hard I guess.'

'I would.' he retorted, finally taking his hand and allowing him to pull him up from the ground. He couldn't help but notice that Aaron was still in great shape, despite his slim looks. 'And they should. More things change in the world than you with your still-minded approach would ever pick up on.'

'I just got back and you're already insulting me?' Hotch frowned, dismayed.

'No, I'm being honest with you. It's not my fault that you find the truth insulting.' Spencer mumbled, grabbing his arm to pull him in the direction of his flat. 'Sorry Miss Wilkinson, we're taking the party to the room.' he cut off the elderly woman who opened her mouth to complain right after opening her door, smoothly navigating out of a likely conflict.

He walked Aaron to his entrance, practically shoving him inside and locking the door behind them. His place was relatively big, yet it fell more on the small and compact side as it is with ground floor flats. He fumbled with his keys like someone not quite used to a new place would, and likewise looked around searching for the places to put his shoes, messenger bag and thin linen coat to. Aaron stood back, observed and followed his lead quietly, the silence between them made comfortable by the domesticity of their actions.

Yet, under the smooth surface, Reid was boiling with rage.

It showed when he finally kicked off his shoes, new and leather, given to him by his mother at the time of his promotion. They were obviously dear to him, so it spoke volumes that he would treat them so harshly.

'Where are you staying?' he broke the silence as he gestured flatly into his apartment and went ahead to lean his lower back against the couch.

'At the Holiday Inn. They got reasonable prices, and I'm familiar from the time of my divorce.' Aaron answered, finally putting aside the ridiculous cap and sunglasses he was going incognito in. He bunched them up on one of Spencer's unopened boxes and left them there as he walked over to the fairly more open living room area. 'I came to congratulate you on your position and to give my condolences. I didn't know your mother well, but she seemed like a good person and I know you two were close.'

'Thanks. She was the only person I ever had.' Spencer crossed his arms tightly over his chest. It was like a distorted carnival mirror, how he mimicked the way Hotch used to stand and how it was Aaron now who stood there not knowing what to do with his hands and shoving them in his jean pockets instead. (Since when did he wear jeans?) 'Everyone else seemed to come and go as they pleased. My mom was always there for me.'

'Sounds like you're implying something.' Hotch furrowed his brows. 'Are you really blaming me for going away to protect my son?'

'Don't try to put this crap on me, Aaron.' Spencer snapped, pushing himself away from his sofa to stand upright. He seemed to have some inches on the man from this angle. 'The problem is _not_ that you protected Jack. Witness protection has never been an issue. The fact is you have the _guts_ to come to me after all these years, after I've been framed for murder, gone to jail, lost my mother, my brother, my team, and congratulate me on my stupid promotion. Yet you try to turn this around and make it about me, like asking for decency is shameful.'

The man shut his mouth, eyes searching Spencer's stormy expression.

'Scratch died years ago, Hotch. But you never came back. I don't blame you for leaving the job either, but I can blame you for not giving a shit about us.' _Not giving a shit about me_, he thought bitterly. 'When you told us that Prentiss died, okay. It took me some time, but I understood. But this doesn't make sense to me. Nothing about you cutting all ties makes sense to me. Were we not family?'

'We were.' Aaron mumbled, his gaze dropped to the floor. 'Of course we were.'

'Then why?' he asked, voice finally breaking. 'Why would you leave us?'

'I just left you.' Hotch said, simple and hurtful. 'I left only you, Spencer.'

'This is why you're so angry. Because you know.' He took a step forward, and where Spencer from the past would've winced and backed away, the present Spencer pursed his lips and straightened his posture. Like a true warrior. A survivor, not someone who gives up. 'You know why. You know that I didn't want you to wait for me. You know that I was selfish enough to make that choice for you, that I thought you were young, bright-eyed and so full of chances, and I didn't want you to waste it on an old, bitter, broken excuse of a man that you have to wait for God knows how long.' His hand twitched with the intent of wanting to touch Spencer, but being too afraid to do so. Afraid of rejection, afraid of hurting him. 'And I'm sorry. I'm sorry, because I hurt you so bad and that was the last thing I wanted to do.'

'It's too late, Aaron.' Spencer whispered, his eyes still rejecting him, but the frustrated wrinkles already smoothing out slowly from his frown. 'It's too late for you to apologize, or confess. We can't start over. You fucked everything up.'

'M-hm. I know.' Aaron hummed, one hand reaching up to cup Spencer's jaw. Despite himself, he quickly melted into the touch. 'I have nine reasons why not to kiss that boy.'

'Ten.' Reid corrected him, drinking in the smile on the man's thin lips as he did so. 'Actually, eleven. I might just bite your tongue off.'

Aaron laughed, low and hearty. 'I've missed you so much. I promise I won't make any more choices for you.'

'You've just made the choice of staying.' he replied easily, cupping the back of Aaron's hand, leaning his face into his enormous palm. 'I haven't said I wanted that.'

'No, you just lashed out on me for ever leaving you, which could be translated into "I've always wanted you to stay".' Hotch wondered, and released a small smirk as Reid sighed and stepped out of their warm little bubble of comforting touches and domestic love. 'You see how being a smarty-pants can wreck the mood?'

'I'm not smarty-pants.' Reid retorted. 'I'm smart.'

'So are you coming over for dinner?'

Spencer thought to himself for a while. He watched Aaron intently, from his slightly greying hair to the way a fitting pair of jeans would hug his ever-so-familiar thighs.

'Is Jack going to be there?'

'I can ask him to stay.'

'For him.' Spencer nodded. 'I've missed him, too.'

'Too?' Hotch raised a questioning brow, to which he smiled.

'You're not there yet, old man. You'll have to earn back my affection.'

'You just said "too".' he argued. But Spencer wouldn't, not anymore.

"reasons to not kiss him:

1\. you weren’t raised to love tender.

2\. when he’s around all you do is tremble. when he’s around you want to get on your knees. look how much power he has over you. it’s dangerous.

3\. he’s too good at forgiving and you’re too good at violence.

4\. you know what they say about monsters. you know what happens to the boys who love them. are you going to do that to him?

5\. your hands don’t know how to be gentle. think about the last beautiful thing that shattered in your palms. the fresh rosebuds crumbling between your fingers like a bruise. you wolf-boy, you war machine. you wouldn’t know how to hold something magic and not destroy it.

6\. if you hurt him it might kill you

7\. if you hurt him you might kill yourself.

8\. you are very bad at rehabilitation. this is one addiction you’d fail to give up. he’s going to ruin you for all other kisses and all other boys and you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to forget his name.

9\. you still aren’t sure he isn’t a dream.

10\. if you kiss him, you might wake up.

reasons to kiss him:

1\. because he’s beautiful.

2\. because he asked. 

3\. because he preceded please with, i’m not afraid of you." - Natalie Wee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me until the very end!! I enjoyed writing this three-piece so much, even though I meant to talk abt some more serious things it became very light-hearted and rom-com-ish ahah but honestly I can't write these two any other way.
> 
> As always, feedback is always welcome! I hope you guys liked it!


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